death valley

Author's Games: Insomnia - Task Three

Author's Note:

( ・∇・)

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My nervous system is dead (like my soul) by the time the action is done and over with. I don't feel anything; I am numb.

Then my skin tingles and I wince at the pins and needles that stab every muscle and tendon in my entire being. Even my bones seem to ache from staying in a curled position for so long. The shock spreads over my body.

I have to start moving, otherwise my brain might shut down....

Lifting a shaky hand, I reach out of the ditch and dig my fingers into the ground. With a grunt, I attempt to haul myself up; while I move, the numbness and pain dissolves quicker. As my muscles become used to moving once again, I sit up and push myself out of the ground. The process is slow but steady, and my arms are wobbly from lack of use.

With a heavy breath, I crawl forward, forcing my lower body to move as well.

A sharp pain stabs my knee; I collapse and grunt in pain, taken aback by the forgotten predicament. I grit my teeth to keep myself from shouting out, and I roll over onto my back in order to sit up and inspect my leg. I tug on my pant leg, shoving it higher until I can see the bare skin. I lean forward to see my knee clearly, unable to make out many details in the dim light.

It's swollen.

It's as if a couple of wasps had stung my leg, forcing the flesh to bloat and limit my movement by adding extra tissue around the area. Funny—it's not sprained. Perhaps it was the cartilage; in that case, I may need a weak or so to heal. Frowning in concentration, I attempt to analyze the problem by twisting my leg slightly in different directions.

Bad mistake. I almost fall back into the dried leaves again, shocked by the amount of pain a simple gesture can bring to me. But at least it can move, that much is evident. I suppose that I am able to walk, but it'll take some effort. I just need a little extra help.

I look back into the ditch. I had a weapon with me when I ran from the Cornucopia. It's still in the hole. I lean over, awkwardly moving so that I don't pressurize my knee, and put in a hand. I yank out a simple dagger, one with a smooth blade that's perfect for tearing apart even the thickest and most calloused of skin. It's still covered in dirt from when I fell in last night, and I carefully use my palm to wipe off the grime from the flat side of the blade.

Why I chose to clean it, I actually have no idea. Perhaps I don't need the extra weight on this blade. That's a more believable answer. I stare at my reflection blankly, pondering over to go through with this plan or not. There's a tree to my right, and if I can work my dagger deep enough into its bark, I can haul myself up.

I reach up as high as I can and thrust the blade into the wood, wiggling it a little to make sure it's tucked in safely. "Here goes," I mumble, and I lurch myself upward with only the help of my right leg. I can only stand crouched, for fear of putting pressure of my left foot and being too weak to hold my own weight. Grunting with effort, I pull out the blade with a small amount of difficulty, then reach up again. I'm able to stand up properly and straighten out my body with the help of my weapon. I glance at my leg and slowly force it to relax, placing my heel on the ground.

It's still in pain, but it seems to have calmed down since a few minutes ago. I shift my weight, gripping my dagger handle tightly for support, and put pressure on my foot. Immediately, I wince, hissing in pain, and recoil uncomfortably.

Let's try that again, shall we?

I repeat the process, this time in a gentler manner. Again, it hurts, but less this time. I come to a quick realization, and I groan at the thought. A knee brace.